Run
by Nixing a Rose
Summary: Chase that pathetic dream of yours, boy. SLASH.
1. start

_Run_

**start  
><strong>

My life is perfect.

I have the most amazing girlfriend. She smiles and waves to me, hugs me in front of everyone, and kisses me in public.

_I hate her._

_I hate her breasts. I hate her vagina. I hate her smell._

_But, she's probably the best thing for me, so I guess I can settle._

Another way that my life is absolutely amazing is that I'm exceptionally well in all my classes. I study hard every night, I memorize facts about square roots and radicals that I know will come in handy.

_I copy off of my neighbor in exchange for sex._

_I'm not complaining._

I am absolutely content with my life.

_Someone kill me now._

_Please._

-/-/-/-

He rustles his paper and yawns, stretching his arms up and not even looking over at me. I know this position and take advantage of it, copying down answers ten through twenty. I nod slightly and he puts his arms down, nudging his paper off the edge. The teacher's head snaps up.

"Pick up your paper off the floor."

"No problem, Ms G." His paper has drifted towards my desk and I scoop it up, memorize one through nine, and hand it back to him.

He turns, takes the sheet from me, thanks me, and twists back around. I repress a shuddering breath and sign my name at the top of the test.

-/-/-/-

"_Fuuuuuck_," he groans, gripping the back of my hair. "Eat it like the fucking slut you are." I don't even bother dignifying his comment with a response. Besides, it would be kind of hard with his dick in my mouth.

A few more bobs and he comes in my mouth. I swallow the bitter substance- albeit barely- collapsing on my ass as he zips his pants up.

Pulling his shirt down over his low-riding jeans, he smiles down at me. "We have a quiz on the political systems in the Middle East today, don't we, Staney?"

I swallow dryly. "Y-yeah. We do."

He smirks. "Hope _you_ brought a condom." He stoops down lets his long fingers trail along my jaw before sliding down the shoulder of my shirt and reaching down to kiss along the skin he revealed.

He bites down fiercely and I yelp. Pulling back up, he whispers "You're mine." in my ear before walking out, leaving me sitting on the floor of the the bathroom.

-/-/-/-

"Stan?" Wendy questions, squeezing my hand. I pull out of my thoughts and smile at her.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Are you okay?" she asks, a concerned look adorning her face. "You've seemed really 'off' this past week. It's not about your grades, is it?"

I shake my head. "Nah, not about my grades." _Well, not directly..._ "I've just been stressed, yeah?"

She nods. "I understand. You know that if there's anything you want to get off your chest, you can come to me, right?"

"Yeah," I say softly, bringing her hands to my chest and kissing her deeply.

God, I hate her lips.

-/-/-/-

I come home and immediately strip off my shirt, analyzing the parting "gift" Craig gave me. It's red and rough looking: already turning a purple-bruise color. Sighing, I swab it with antiseptic and cover it in a large plaster.

After flopping onto my bed, I pull out my math homework. It's a pain in the ass to solve, but I'd much rather work it myself than pay _another_ person- in some form or another- to do it for me.

I know this is a dangerous way to live. I'd be fucked if I didn't. But I just... I can't do it. I mean, I know the material, but it takes all of my willpower not to puke onto the paper: let alone do any of the problems.

Okay, I can do this.

_You just have to multiply the- Oh god, what if I get it wrong and she calls me in front of the class to show everyone how much of a retard I am? And then everyone will laugh and-_

Fuck, no I can't.

Growling, I swipe the godforsaken paper off my sheets and rest my head on the cleared surface. The only "core" subjects I'm not failing are English language arts and general science. Contrary to what many people say, I actually _can_ read. I enjoy it as well. And general science is just memorizing where organs go and shit.

Sometimes, I thank a god that I long ago stopped believing in that I'm doing okay in those two subjects. I think my mental state can only handle so blows to my psyche. And _Craig_, Craig is fucking scary.

_Craig_... My fists clench automatically. That asshole is a dick. He roped me into all of this, offering this deal _exactly_ as I was desperate to do _anything_ to prevent me from losing my scholarship.

Anything, apparently, is equivalent to sucking Craig off and putting up with all of his bullshit.

One of the main reasons I find Craig so disturbing is his way with people. He's all smiles and laughs as you get close to him while he places all of his hooks into you. And then, before you know it, you end up hanging around him despite not knowing _why._

Or, you end up like me: his fucktoy. His plaything.

And fuck, you keep running in circles because he has _something_ held over you. You're like a donkey that keeps walking because there's that carrot _just right in front of you_. You keep trying to tell yourself that, soon enough, you'll get it and all this walking will be worth it. But it's just an empty promise- you know that- but you still keep chasing it.

Just keep chasing it.

Just keep running.

* * *

><p>AN: (updated 23-6-12) THANK YOU TO THE ANONYMOUS REVIEWER. Your grammar could have been much better (read: why do you even bother typing anything dumbass) BUT YOUR POINT WAS MADE. I wish you had an account, though. :c So I could thank you.<p>

That review should sum up this work of shit beautifully. Don't read it. I hate it. You'll hate it. I'm saving you some trouble.

Why not go and read something niiiiiiiice (well, better than this)? Check out my recent(-er) shit, and don't bother going past this chapter. Seriously. Ugh.

xoxo

~ o3o


	2. Chapter 2

_Run_

**ii**

"Kyle?"

"_Yeah, dude! What the fuck happened? You didn't show!_"

"For wha- Oh shit, it wasn't today, was it?"

"_Yeah, man. She's pissed!_"

"Dammit. Alright." I sit up in my bed, rubbing my face. _Fuck, she's going to go off on me because I missed her recital._ I hang up on Kyle and lay my phone back on my nightstand, swinging my leg over the edge of the bed. As I begin to slip out, a long arm pulls me back against its owner.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he whispers, drawing me far enough against him so that his mouth is dangerously close to my ear. I shudder slightly. "Hmm?"

"I, uh, I missed Wendy's chorus performance and I need to-"

"You don't need to do anything." he interrupts, licking a trail along my neck. "Just stay here. She can wait."

"N-no... She can't, she's my... g-girlfriend..." I plead weakly. He growls and rolls on top of me, pressing his naked skin flush against my own bare body. He grips my wrists and pins them above my head, lowering his neck so that his breath ghosts across my chest.

"You think I give two fucking shits about your motherfucking girlfriend? We had two tests in math: back to back. I'm getting my fucking payment." I whimper weakly as he attacks my lips, trying to forcefully shove his tongue into my mouth. I gasp slightly as he creeps his hand up across my chest, and he takes the opening.

I jerk to the left and he pulls back and grins. Licking his lips, he winks.

"Ready to go another round, Staney?"

-/-/-/-

"Wendy-"

"Fuck, Stan! This was one of my biggest fucking performances and you didn't even come!" _Well..._ "I kept looking for you through the whole thing. And you weren't there!"

"Wendy, I-"

"You better have the best fucking excuse ever, Stan."

"Wendy, I... I want to tell you. I really do. But I _can't_. I can't and fuck, you'd be the first person I'd tell if I could," I whisper, pleading with her.

"Does it have to do with something that either happened or started last week?" My head swings up. She sighs. "I'm not stupid, Stan."

"Y- yeah, it does. And I don't know how I'm going to fix it and, shit, I wish I was stronger and..." Her hand grips my shoulder and she pulls me close. She rubs soothing circles into my back, hushing me. I hardly ever cry in front of anyone, but I do this time, the wetness seeping into her soft jacket.

After a few minutes, I quiet down and she pulls me back, kissing me softly. "It's okay, Stan. You're amazing. You'll fix this."

If only I could.

I hate Wendy. I hate her smile, I hate her laugh, I hate her kindness.

But fuck if I don't need her.

-/-/-/-

"Alright. So I have a plan to _finally_ get rid of all those nasty _Jews_-"

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman."

"Get bent, ginger."

"Oh yeah, I bet you'd like to see that, wouldn't you?"

"He'd like to be the one to do it," Kenny says, and they both blush a dark red color.

"Fuck you, Kenny."

"Goddamn poor kid needs to shut the fuck up."

I listen to their banter subconsciously, intent on watching Craig eat his lunch. Slowly- ever so _slowly_- he raises a carrot to his mouth and bites down, the _crunch_ making everyone at his table snap their heads up to him. Seeing no immediate danger, they drift back to their conversations, sparing him quick glances every once in a while.

Everyone knows about _their_ table. It's an amazing feat to even be _considered_ to be eligible to sit with them. Apparently, you must go through some sort of secret initiation, or be invited by Craig _himself_.

If you achieve _that_ honor, you're practically a god.

The most recent person to be invited was Tweek Tweak, and now he's practically insane. He was a bit jittery before, but putting up with Craig must have sent him over the edge. It's not uncommon for him to have breakdowns in the hallways. Craig always seems to be there to sweep him away, taking him wherever it is he takes him to.

People used to speculate that he's taken to the nurse's office, but that was been debunked by in the clinic at the time.

Whatever it is that happens, it apparently works and Tweek comes back vaguely normal.

Craig looks up and grins at me.

I freeze.

His smile widens and he winks.

"You okay, Stan?"

"Shut the fuck up, you Jew bitch. I was going to fucking ask him!"

"You were too busy mentally jacking off to some cake to bother!"

"You know what-"

"You alright, man?" Kenny says. He looks vaguely concerned and I nod.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

-/-/-/-

"Tweek," I whisper softly. He jumps about a foot in the air. "It's me, Stan."

He turns around, an untrusting look on his face. "Why does the earth rotate?"

"Because of coffee," I answer.

He smiles. "Hello, Stan. How are you?"

"I am positive that I'm negative."

He drops the smile. "Alright. Thank god you haven't been abducted. What's up?"

"Worms."

He nods. "When did the first caveman wear a loincloth?"

"Craig." He stiffens and blanches.

"The square of a triangle?"

"Because... I think we might... I think he..." I avert my eyes, staring holes into the pavement. "Did he ever do anything to you?"

"He still does." Tweek's face is a deadpan, the inane smile that always seems to be gracing his features gone. Instead, a slight frown pulls at the corners of his mouth. He looks older, _much_ older.

"Oh my god, Tweek..."

"Has the hallway shifted?"

"Yes. Last week." He takes this information in thoughtfully.

"All I can say is to keep going. There's not... You can't-" He coughs into his hand before clearing his throat and continuing. "_I_ can't get out of it."

"Thank you for being honest," I say.

"No problem," he answers. He smiles for real, running a hand through his yellow locks.

"Yes it is."

"And the orangutans?"

"Always."

* * *

><p><em>AN:<em> Hm.

I've honestly never thought Tweek to _actually_ be that much of a freak. I've always believed he was incredibly smart but paranoid, hence him hiding his intelligence by being a spazzer.

Which was why I made him, like, some sort of MI-6 agent or something.

The conversation between Stan and Tweek is pretty easy to decipher, but if you're confused, don't be afraid to shoot me a PM! I'm happy to explain things to anyone. (:

If you picked up a little joke in this chapter, tell me and I'll write you a free one-shot. (;

~Nixi o3o


	3. Chapter 3

_Run_

**iii**

Slowly, I pull my books from my locker. The hallway is nearly empty as I cradle them in the crook of my elbow, making my way to class.

"Let's fuck in the abandoned room."

I nearly drop everything.

Craig, in all his revolting self, is standing in the shadow of an alcove. I can't believe that I didn't see him.

"I- I, there- test-"

"Think of it as..." he pauses and smirks. "Think of it as a 'Get Out Of Sex Free' card. You pay me now and you can skip an interaction of your choice."

It does make sense, in a twisted way. I nod my head slightly. "But not right now."

Craig's gaze hardens. "Why not right now?"

"I've got class," I say simply. "Which _we're_ late for." He grunts and I take that as an affirmative. "I don't know about you, but I actually care about my grades."

"Whatever," he mutters, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

We make our way to English.

-/-/-/-

"Aren't you lookin' fine today?"

Class has just ended and everyone is congregating in the room, waiting for the dismissal bell to sound.

"Cut it out, Ken. You're such a faggot," Cartman says, glaring down his nose at the blonde. Over the years, Cartman has filled out, losing most of his pudge and just becoming a solid mass. He isn't muscular, just _big_. He still wears that hat from elementary school, though he has replaced his red jacket with a red flannel shirt.

Kenny makes a dismissive sound in the back of his throat. "I thought Stan was a chick. My bad." Sliding his thin form off my desk, he languidly pulls himself over to a gaggle of girls, smiling and laughing with them.

"God, I swear he's a fucking queer," Cartman huffs, oblivious to my clenching hands. "He's worse than Butters."

"Kenny isn't gay."

"Like fuck he's not." Cartman snorts and turns to me. "So what's up your ass, Hippie?"

"Nothing," I say through grit teeth, avoiding looking him in the eyes.

Taking the hint, he shrugs. "Fine, I get it. I'll go fuck around with Kenny, then." With that, he leaves my side to jog up to Ken and slap his back hard enough to tip him over.

I sigh in relief, rubbing my forehead.

-/-/-/-

The bell rings and I pick up my stuff before following the class out. A cold hand clasps onto my shoulder and I shiver, following its direction as it pushes me into the stairwell leading to the younger classrooms. Those children have long since been in the cafeteria, awaiting the final bell. With the shadows and the abandoned room beneath it, there is no chance of anyone seeing us.

"Why..."

"Shut up." His voice is coarse, his tone angry. "Just shut the fuck up."

I turn around slightly to get a better look at him. His jaw is set tightly, his nostrils flared and his pupils dilated.

"Oh my god you were-"

He slams me against the stone wall, his eyes glittering slightly. Fingernails dig into my skin, sure to leave marks later. "Shut the fuck up."

I nod, fearful of him. I have seen many of his faces: cunning, kind, haughty, angry, snide. But never... This. This is scary, this face that seems to bleed fury. He looks as if he could kill me without a second thought, as if he could kill anyone that apposed him.

Disgusted with myself, a shiver of anticipation runs through me. It was revoltingly appealing, the thought of someone being so strong. Of what that strength could do to _me_.

Sensing my feelings, Craig inhales sharply and fumbles in his pocket for the key to the room. Drawing it out, he unlocks the door shakily, pulling me in with him.

* * *

><p>AN: Wargh.<p>

I totally meant to make this longer, but I sorta went 'rgkjrgaskrhaRYwl;ksyLW4HSHIFT' in the middle of it, so yeah. There will be _no_ sex scene in the next chapter, I don't think.

Maybe I will.

Dunno, depends on what you want.

I made a super fuck-up with the uploading, but that's fixed now. Updates aren't usually going to be this often, I'm just exhausting all of my creative juices. Which I have none of, trolololol.

I have a song for you. It's not the type of music I usually listen to, but check out _I Just Wanna Run_ by _The Downtown Fiction_. It was free on iTunes when it was released, and I've been jamming to it ever since.

So, yeah.

~Nixi o3o


	4. Chapter 4

_Run_

**iv**

A light is flicked on.

The room is dusty, obviously not used recently. I almost consider asking Craig how the fuck he got the key, but his hands are everywhere and I'm pushed onto the carpet unceremoniously, his lithe frame hovering over me as he mauls my body.

"St- stop..." I hear myself say in a weak, pitiful voice. I hate this, this thing that he is right now. "It's not-"

His fingernails dig into the flesh of my left arm, holding it in front of my face as they slice deeper. "You don't look like you want me to stop."

I make a sound in the back of my throat, turning my head to the right to avoid his accusing tone.

"Give me one fucking reason to stop." A sneer is in his voice; he knows that he's won.

"You're not yourself!" My head snaps back to his frozen figure as the words that had bubbled on my tongue when I got a good look at him. "You're fucking _on something_! And this wasn't the agreement, so get the fuck off of me!"

That look, oh god. He's got that face that I hadn't seen before on again and he bends down-

"Stan! I- What the fuck?" Craig pulls off, glaring daggers at Cartman standing in the doorway, who takes a few steps back. Though, contrary to his previous smart move, he opens his mouth once more. "Y- you faggot! Both of you!"

Panic wells in my stomach. _Cartman, the biggest mouth ever. If he tells everyone oh god-_

"You honestly think you can use this against us?" Craig says, that smirking lilt in his voice. "You honestly think that people are going to believe _you_ - obstinate asshole - over _me_?"

Cartman turns a deep red. "Of course they are, fucktard! Why wouldn't they?"

"Let's see... Your crush on Kyle," Cartman draws in a deep breath, "the fact that _no one likes you_," he turns an uglier shade of red, "and the fact that I'm much more influential than you?"

"I don't like _Kyle_," he seethes, glowering at Craig.

"Of course not."

"I'm not _that_! You're the fucking gay!"

"I suggest you fuck off, as it would be harmful to you nonexistent reputation to be labeled a 'queer'." Cartman huffs and switches his gaze to mine.

"I thought Kenny was bad. You fucking freak." With that, he turns on his heel and storms off: the door shutting lightly behind him.

As silence engulfs us, I quietly stand, brush myself off, and pick up my bag. As I start to leave, Craig grabs my wrist. I shake him off without looking back, exiting the room and joining the last dwindle of students as they make their way to the school parking lot.

-/-/-/-

"So, I heard that Park High's football team is doing well."

The dinner table goes quiet and my mom automatically covers her mouth, not believing what she just said.

My fork and knife clatter onto my plate, startling everyone.

I stand up and carry the remains of my dinner to the sink.

"Stan-"

"Don't, mom," I say as I scrape the leftovers down the sink. I put the dish and utensils in the dishwasher, shutting it quickly and exiting the room.

I'm not even into the hallway when my father whispers,"You know not to talk about that around him."

"I'm sorry, I forgot," my mother whispers back.

I pull myself up the stairs, open my bedroom door, and flop onto my bed.

Here I am, once the star quarterback for the Park Bulls.

Let go because of my fucking grades.

I roll over and squeeze my eyes shut, pretending that I'm not crying.

Because I'm not.

I'm not.

* * *

><p>AN: Insomnia is baaaaad.<p>

No smut for you! Sorry, but I wrote it so many times and then I was sort of 'I don't _have_ to write it!'

Yeah, I sorta cheated out on you guys.

To make it up, I'll show you my worst spelling mistakes:

obviviously

Dertmsn (Cartman)

unsherrymoanlessly (ohgodwhatI'mtired)

The song I'm plugging is... _Sweet Caroline_ by _Neil Diamond_. It's awesome! xD (Yes, I'm listening to a ~tralala~ song while writing emo shit. Problem?)

I promise updates will get longer. They will! I swear! D:

FOR ANYONE WHO WANTS SMUT: CHAPTER SIX. JUST YOU WAIT. ;D

Double digit reviews! Whoop! 8D

~Nixi o3o


	5. Chapter 5

_Run_

**v**

"Get 'em, Joe!"

"Fuck yeah, beat that shit up!"

He stomps on my face and I feel something gush.

A boy named "Joe" had bumped into me, accidentally spilling my books. When he sneered and walked away, I muttered a quick "Prick." underneath my breath. Apparently, he had heard it and decided to confront me.

Our argument escalated into this: a brutal beating down on Stan Marsh.

Kyle has his face buried into a girl I do not recognize's shoulder, as if watching is too painful. Several faces I know just shake their heads or put their hands to their mouths, though none attempt to stop it.

"Where the fuck ya lookin', ya fucktard? Imma beat the livin' shit out ya pansy ass!" Somehow, I have magically pulled myself to an unsteady crouch. He kicks me straight in the stomach, sending me to the floor once more. I roll to the side, coughing up blood.

A shadow looms over me and I look in the opposite direction, to see that the crowd has frozen. Blearily, I turn to the shadow's side, to be greeted with a lovely view of Craig Tucker's ass. Joe is lifted a good foot in the air by his one hand, the display of strength awe-provoking.

Saying loudly enough that only Joe, himself, and I could hear: he snarls, "That's my fucking property."

-/-/-/-

A black eye, a broken nose, one bruised rib. Just my fucking luck.

"Us homosexuals gotta stick together, right?"

My head snaps up.

Butters has accompanied me to the hospital, sitting with me and making idle chatter as I wait for my parents to come and retrieve me.

I rove my eyes over him. To be quite honest, I never got really talked to him much after we entered middle school, and especially not in high school. He had more or less stayed the same: naive, soft-spoken, gullible.

The only obvious difference is his blue eyes are now framed by his shoulder-length blonde hair, pulled back into a ponytail.

"What makes you think I'm gay?"

Butters smile gets wider. "I hear things, Stan."

Before I can begin to question him, my mother bursts through the door to my hospital room, a blubbering mess. Patting me once on the arm, he slips off, nodding slightly to my dad on his way out.

-/-/-/-

On the first of my three days of you-must-recuperate-from-getting-beaten-to-a-pulp vacation from school, Kenny sneaks into my room through my window.

"God, Stan. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Kenny is thrashing me at Super Mario Kart. His dirty blonde hair clings to his slightly pimpled forehead as he bites his tongue between his teeth. Kenny has gotten skinnier over the years as he continues to shoot up in height, despite lack of nutrition. His trademark orange parka is still in place, though it was now much too short on him.

He pauses the game and turns to me. "Seriously. Tell me what's up."

A massive lump settles in my throat and a hole opens in my gut.

Kenny, reading my body language, grunts and sits closer to me. He looks extremely uncomfortable, as if the bromance in the air bothers him.

"Look. You know I'm not good with this talking and shit. So, yeah, uh," he searches for words, his eyes wandering around my room. "If you need something or nothing you can tell me. 'Kay?"

I nod, freeing Ken from his friend-duties.

"Thanks, man."

"Yeah, whatever." Kenny nonchalantly waves his hand. "Don't think I won't own your ass just 'cause you're sad."

-/-/-/-

On the second day, Kyle shows up at the door.

I tell my mom to tell him I'm asleep.

-/-/-/-

And on the third day, no one other than Craig fucking Tucker appears.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm not a cock-tease!<p>

It is _plotttttt_. (Lol, I didn't realize any of my stories had plot. Pfft.)

Smut in next chapter for sure. -squeal- I'm so scared. ;3;

If you, by some odd chance, caught _just where the fuck this is going_ you get a free one-shot. It is not subtly hidden, and it all depends on interpretation. Good luck finding it! Here's a hint: it's in the dialog. ;D

I swear you guys are gonna hate me when this is over. In the next 3-4 chapters it will go from this to 'LOLWTFWASTHATPLOTTWIST? TROLOLOLOL.'

Music plug time! _If You Were Gay_ from _Avenue Q _(Musical). Awesome song, once you get past the talking. -sage nod-

Typos:

pimpderp (pimpled)

homerectuals (homosexuals)

HEY. If the break is minor, you don't have to get it set and it only takes a few days to solidify. It'll still hurt like a bitch, but you don't have to be super careful about it. /broke my nose

(This was all written the same time as chapter four. INSOMNIAAAAA.)

~Nixi o3o


	6. Chapter 6

_Run_

**vi**

There's a knock at your door.

"Come in."

It swings open and you don't even look up until it's shut and locked.

"What the fuck do you..." The words die on your lips as he stands there, sopping wet. You would shoot a quick glance out the window to assure that it's raining, but you can't.

You can't stop staring at him.

"What-"

"I'm sorry." _What the fuck?_ "I screwed up like fuck and-" he takes a deep breath and hangs his head, rubbing his face with his hand. "I'm sorry."

_This asshole, he think he can waltz in here and apologize for that shit he pulled and think he can get away with it?_

"I forgive you."

His head jerks up in surprise.

You feel yourself nod. "Everyone fucks up."

Immediately, he's at your bedside, lowering his face to your own. His breath ghosts across your lips and you shiver. He pauses and your eyes, which you had not realized had closed, snap open.

His face is asking. He's stopping. He's stopping for _you_.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

It's tentative at first, his new-found power over you still a shock to him. A sliver of tongue prods at your lips, asking for entry. You comply, relishing in the feel of him exploring and mapping out every curvature and dip of your entire mouth.

With Wendy it was soft and gentle and you knew what to do and-

You pull back, your eyes wide. _Wendy_.

"Fuck," he breaths onto your cheek. He smells like rain a cigarettes and _flesh_. "Fuck, I'm sorry." He begins to pull away, but your hand grasps his forearm. He looks at you. You look at him.

You feel that if you let go, it'll all be gone and shattered and whatever this thing you were slowly building would disappear.

"Please."

This time, he forces his tongue in from the get go. His nose bumps your and you grunt with the pain. An impossibly cold and damp hand creeps up your shirt, brushing over your stomach. You flinch slightly.

And then his hand is splayed across your chest, pressing your sitting form down onto the bed, not breaking contact once. His knees press into either side of your hips.

The fingers retreat from your chest, pulling at the hem of your night shirt.

You break the kiss off, letting him expose your chest and flinging that _unnecessary_ piece of clothing across your room. In fact, all of this clothing is _unnecessary_ and you unzip his soaked navy jacket and throw it in vaguely the same direction. He takes the hint and discards his sopping t-shirt as well.

He goes for your neck, licking and sucking and _biting_, oh god that feels good. You moan something into his soft black hair. Your hands begin to work and you cling to his back, your groomed fingernails digging marks into his pale skin.

You tear a row from his shoulder blade to the middle of his vertebrae as he bites down and he hisses into your ear.

He breaks away, fingers fumbling with the waistband of your pants. He pauses and regains a little control, staring good and hard into your eyes.

You nod an affirmative because oh god you need this, you want this.

You want _him_.

Pyjama pants are gone, he's palming you through your black boxers. He shift your hips, wanting friction, friction, _something_.

And then he's actually _touching you_. His fist is open and there's no purchase, despite how _hard_ you try.

His fingers are feather-like as he strokes you softly, the cold wetness of his hands chilling you to the bone.

You shiver and moan, pushing your forehead to meet his. He kisses you lightly before pumping his hand.

Head is falling back as he actually tries to make you feel this. _Feel this._

He takes his hand off, licking the palm. Fuck, if he keeps doing stuff like that you'll lose it right then and there.

The pressure is back against your rigid fresh, the slickness providing you with what you need. _Needneedneed_.

His hand leaves the bedspread and he begins to touch himself in time with touching you and ohgodohgodohgod.

There are white spots and his name his spilling from your lips in a mantra as white-hot pleasure zips through you. _Thisthisthis_.

You can hear him calling your name as you slowly come down, as he slowly comes down.

Heavy breaths are taken, swears are muttered.

He flops next to you, pushing you slightly over.

"How's your body?"

"Pretty damn fine," you answer. He laughs. "Where're my parents?"

"Out til six. They asked me to look over you."

"What time is it?"

"Four."

"Wanna look over me some more?" You both roll to face each other. His expression fades from shock to a friendly smirk.

"Fuck yeah."

* * *

><p>AN: There wasn't a single red squiggle except for the 'thisthisthis' kind of stuff.<p>

And pyjamas.

Fucking American spell-check.

I wrote a sex scene. Oh my god. I wrote a sex scene in second person. Oh my god. I'm so scared that it wasn't sexy (which it wasn't) but still Jewish Christ oh my Arceus.

Please don't kill me, it only makes updates slower.

Jam: _Country Song_ by _Seether_. It's amazing, homes.

Typos:

penerwiner (Honestly, I found it in the middle of the second kiss before I uploaded it onto ff. It was just there. ._.)

espoartion (expression; same as previous.)

pushing your sitting form onto the dress. (It was supposed to be bed. Lol, wtf?)

STORY PIMPIN': K2: Seme Handbook, by _lizoftheinfinite_. It is hilarious, perverted, and just everything you would need from a smut story. It's in my favourites, so check it out~!

Now, you must deal with my_ plot_ for a few chapters. OH NOES. D:

~Nixi o3o


	7. Chapter 7

_Run_

**vii**

"We've got a test today!" I'm brought out of my daze with a jolt, a sudden fear clenching in my gut. "It's just a quiz, so I'm sure you dumb asses will do fine."

My breathing is getting tight, my chest is begging for air and I'm gonna _diediedie_.

"Cartman, you fat ass! Come hand out the papers!" He grumbles something and stands up, snatching the papers out of Ms G's hand. "I guess all those fat cells replaced brain ones, huh?"

The class titters as he starts placing a paper on each desk.

"At least you're getting some exercise. Though I can't help you in the mental department, retard."

"_Shut up_!" He shouts, slamming the papers on my desk and pointing an accusatory finger in my face. "You think there's something wrong with _me_? Stan's a fucking _faggot_!"

The room goes deathly quiet. Mouths hanging open, faces blank: the whole nine yards.

And then Craig laughs.

"You _honestly_ think anyone believes you? Stan has a _girlfriend_, instead of an inane crush on _Kyle_ of all people."

"I'm not a fucking faggot!" Cartman screams. Several people jump back, but Craig seems unfazed. "You're the one that was about to fuck 'im in the abandoned room!" His finger stabs into Craig's chest.

Craig's eyes narrow.

"Don't touch me."

It's Cartman's turn to laugh. "What the fuck ya gonna do, pansy faggot?"

There's a sickening crack and Cartman's finger is bent the wrong way.

He stares, the smile still on his face.

He stares.

He stares.

He screams.

"_What the fuck is your problem_? _You broke my finger you assfuck_!" Craig stands up, brushes off his pants, and socks Cartman in the jaw.

Sprawled on the floor, Cartman blubbers something along the lines of a plea.

"What the fuck am I gonna do?" Craig hisses, looming over the brunette. "I'm gonna fuck you up." He stands a brings his foot up to-

"_Stop_!" Heads snap in the direction of the speaker.

Did I say that?

Shit.

"St- stop, Craig. He's an asshole but d- don't hurt him..." Craig sighs heavily, placing his foot back on the ground. He spits on Cartman's face and calmly walks the three steps back to his seat.

The room seems frozen, Ms G's eyes flicking from Cartman to Craig to me and back again. "O- okay. Uh, can someone take Cartman to the nurse and someone else hand out the papers?"

A kid nods stiffly and hauls Cartman up, walking with him to the clinic. Butters picks up where Cartman left off, winking at me as he takes the papers off my desk.

I shiver.

-/-/-/-

"F- fuck. Sta- an..." His voice cracks as he slumps forward, gripping my hair in his hand. "A- ahh."

I stand up and walk away, spitting his fluid in the sink. Cupping my hands underneath the faucet, I attempt to wash the taste from my mouth.

"Stan." I turn sharply. "Did I do something?"

Half-formed thoughts roll around in my head, crashing into each other as I try to find something that I can say to him that doesn't sound idiotic.

"What are you?"

He inhales sharply, his eyes narrowing. "What am I?"

Flustered, I search for what exactly I was trying to say. "I- I mean you can just _hurt _someone like that and-"

"I'm-"

And then everything goes black.

* * *

><p>AN: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.<p>

TROLOLOLOL.

Oh shitttt~! _;_D I got all of you.

Noooo! Don't give up on me, though! I'm so afraid that I'm losing my 'Horror' category, but... nice!Craig is soon to be forgotten.

Just... Pfft. If you thought it was scary/emo/horror before, you might want to go read something else. After this chapter, it is earning it's M rating.

Kukukuku.

Jam: _Chelsea Dagger_ by _The Fratellis_. It's one of my favorite songs.

No spelling errors this time~!

~Nixi o3o


	8. Chapter 8

_Run_

**viii**

"Fuck! We can't just have him know!"

"Kill him."

"Put...hands on him...entrails..."

"He's too..."

The air is damp and settles thickly on my skin. Cold metal is against my shirtless back as I sit upright in a chair. My mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton, but I manage to form a vaguely coherent sentence.

"Mnnger 'm I?"

"Fuck, look at him. You can't kill him," a voice says.

"You goin' soft? The fuck's wrong with you?" another comments, tone biting and harsh.

"I don't wanna get ripped up by Craig. Have some self-preservation skills!" the first answers, and they both go quiet.

"Craig." Someone new is speaking softly. It sounds like someone I know... But...

"Yes?" a familiar voice intones.

"You can't keep him."

"I want him. He's mine."

"Yeah? Well I don't want to get fucking _killed_ because you have a fucking crush. Don't you remember the last one?" the second voice from before shouts, obviously frustrated.

"This one's different."

A soft hand is at my face, prodding softly. My eyes ease open, greeted with the sight of-

"Butters!"

"What the fuck? Don't fucking touch him!"

Butters doesn't even turn around, smiling softly at me. "Ignore them. Craig, Kenny, and I will protect you."

I nod. His smile droops slightly, but he pats my arm before joining a group of three other people.

As my eyes adjust to the dim light I can begin to distinguish who is talking.

The first is... Kenny. His orange parka is distinctive, and that mess of blonde hair is hard to miss.

The second is Token. He's standing close to Kenny, obviously arguing with him. His hair is cropped short, jaw set as he tries to validate a point.

There's Butters, who is clutching tightly onto the arm of Craig. Craig looks pissed.

And then there's...

My stomach lurches.

Oh god.

Her black hair is pulled back into a ponytail with a hair-tie. A yellow shirt clutches dangerously close to her body, black jeans almost as tight. She turns around, regarding me with a look I never would have... Never...

Not from her.

Not from Wendy.

"You can't keep him," she says quietly to Craig, turning on her heel and walking out of the small room. Her heels click across the linoleum as she exits, slamming the door behind her.

"See, Wendy has some sense! You can't keep him. If we get caught up in some shit and he gets taken hostage, what are you gonna do?"

"Just shut up, Token. Let's go." Kenny grabs the male's arm, dragging him out in the same direction an Wendy went. Butters smiles softly to me and follows after them.

The door clicks closed, the sound resonating throughout the room.

I cough into my bound hands. He's immediately at my side, gently untying the rope.

"Why?" My voice is scratchy and raw.

"I-" He looks into my eyes. "I don't want to kill you."

"What are you?"

"I'm not... I'm not right." We fall silent; he's looking everywhere but at me.

"Okay," I sigh. "Okay, just take me home. I just wanna go home."

-/-/-/-

The sheets of my bed are a solace, the comforting smell of home. I'm not a big fan of my house - or the people in it - but normality is what I need. Something common and stable, unlike-

"Look."

"Go away."

"You don't understand..." he trails off, expecting me to interrupt him. "It's complicated."

"What the fuck can be so complicated? Why the fuck can't you-"

Strong hands grip my wrists, pinning them roughly against my bed. He's sitting on my chest, his face right in mine. Teeth are bared, pupils are dilated, and I suddenly feel an overwhelming surge of respect for anyone who has been on the receiving end of such fearsome will to kill.

"Who do you think you are? You're mine." He's baring down, snarling in my face. I'm shivering, trying to control my thoughts. "Don't forget your fucking place."

He pushes off of me, stalking out of the room without a glance back.

I attempt to regain my breathing, to steady my heartbeat. I clutch a pillow to my chest, wanting to soothe the pain there.

What have I gotten into?

* * *

><p>AN: So...<p>

Yeah.

JUST WHAT IS HE?

Jam: _Tea Party_ by _Kerli_. I saw it on America's Got Talent (OH MY ARCEUS: KINETIC KING! FUCK, VOTE HIM FOR WILD CARD!) so yeah. I'm not usually a big fan of music like this, though.

I totally skipped out on the smut possibilities there. ;3; Chapter... Ten/Eleven will probably have something. ;D

You know how I said I was having less and less free time? It's sorta true. I'm finding any possible way to give you guys a new chapter, and it's so much fun! Even if you don't review, just reading is a huge compliment for me! Thanks for your support!

~Nixi o3o


	9. Chapter 9

_Run_

**ix**

"Wake up." I grunt. "Stan, there's someone here for you."

"Iz'Sa'day..." I grumble, trying to bury my head deeper into the pillows.

"It's your girlfriend."

I jerk awake, my mother's hand quickly withdrawing. A slim form is standing in the doorway: thin black jacket over a pair of jeans.

"Wendy." I say once my mother has left the room.

"Yeah, it is."

"What do you-"

"You're no good for him," she says bluntly, effectively leaving me speechless. "You're weak."

"How-"

"If you can't tell your _girlfriend_," she puts heavy emphasis in the word. I wince. "That you're dicking around behind her back, I don't see how the likes of Craig could put up with you."

"Hold on there," I say, trying desperately to reign in the conversation. "He's the one that..." I trail off. She stares into my eyes. A blush creeps up my face. "He's the one that's no good for me."

"And yet you stay with him? Yet another weak trait." Her voice is belittling, as if I'm a child explaining why I did something with 'But he did it!'

"You don't understand-"

"I understand perfectly." Her blue eyes narrow as she speaks. "Craig is highly capable of functioning by himself. You are not an asset: merely a dead weight. His feelings for you are idiotic and misdirected."

"'_Feelings_'? Who said anything about _feelings_? We were doing shit so that I could pass my classes. There were no _feelings_," I say, my voice hoarse. Fuck, where is this coming from.

"You liar. You liar, you fucking liar," she spits, turning on her heel. She opens my bedroom door and turns to me. "I hope you're happy." And storms out.

* * *

><p>AN: Short chapter is short.<p>

Jam: _Bachikoii!_ by _Devparade_. Japanese? Whoop.

~Nixi o3o


	10. Chapter 10

_Run_

**x**

My head is pounding in time with his thrusts, my brittle lips cracking and bleeding as I bite into my hand. Those nasty nasty hands are on my hips, gripping so tightly they could fracture. I can feeling myself tearing, feel my self-image's strings being slowly snapped.

He had cracked my head against the headboard when he came in. I feel like a sluggish doll, only moving as he does.

It's disgusting.

_I'm_ disgusting.

I can't fight him off, I can't tell him that _no, I don't want this._ My voice is gone, my throat is bruised and aching from his fingers. He choked me and sucked the air from my lungs as he kissed me.

He tried to steal my breath away, to make me fall in love with him.

It didn't work.

The one thing I hate more than myself at the moment is _him_. _Him_ and his _brutality_, his _inhumane qualities_. I had tried to overlook them, to see past what I knew had seeped to his core.

He was bad.

No amount of false affection from his side would change that fact, despite what I wanted to believe. I wanted to believe that he could change, that a simple hug or hand of friendship would change him.

How wrong.

How very very wrong.

He finishes inside of me, not even sparing me the humiliation of being filled like a common whore. He rolls off of my matted bed-sheets that I got from the land-lady downstairs. She's a kind old Mexican woman, and smells of tortillas and honey.

It has been two years since I dropped out of high school.

Two years since this deal should have been done.

But it isn't. I continue to let him in at one-in-the-fucking morning, when he needs a quick lay after a shipment of coke hasn't come in. I let him run rampant in my tiny apartment, tearing up my shit and marking his territory.

That is all I am, this whore that lets him do whatever, whenever.

That's all I ever will be.

-/-/-/-

"_You need to talk with someone._"

It's out of place, Kyle calling me. I gave Kenny my number when I left, leaving one last connection to South Park as I moved into my first apartment in Denver. I don't even know where I am anymore as the hotels and motels have all begun to blend together.

"About what?"

"_About whatever the fuck you left South Park for. You wouldn't leave everyone like that, man._"

"I would."

"_You wouldn't._"

"You don't even know me anymore, Broflovski."

And I hang up.

-/-/-/-

He takes it too far that night.

My vocal cords work, and I tell him a stern "no" and "this has to stop".

He doesn't listen.

I try to force him away.

He won't budge.

I call the police minutes after he leaves me.

_Raped._

-/-/-/-

"We going after him on drug charges, as you didn't want to act against him."

The wall is so not-white, yet wishing to be blank.

"We're gonna get him."

It's as if it strived to be perfect, but couldn't.

"You did a good thing."

I don't listen.

She leaves.

* * *

><p><em>AN:<em> Well.

_Shoot It Out_ by _10 Years_.

Two more chapters, I think. \:

~Nixi o3o


	11. Chapter 11

_Run_

**xi**

"Do you need anything else, dear?" I smile at Ms Garcia, shaking my head. "Okay, _cariño_, just give me a call." Her thick and soft arms wrap around my waist. Her honey-tortilla scent wafts up into my nostrils.

Her brains spray across my face.

"You honestly thought you could put me in _jail_?" His shouts reverberate in my room, echoing in my ears. Ms Garcia's dead body sags in my arms. "You're _mine,_ running to the goddamn _police_ isn't going to change that._"_

_Ms Garcia... Wake up... Please..._

Her warm body is wrenched from my arms, Craig's snarl coming into view.

"Token's right- I should kill you."

His hands are on my neck, their rough pads squeezing so hard, so hard. I want to close my eyes, to resign myself to this.

_Ms Garcia..._

My arms move, I shove him back. He stumbles, I wipe the mess off of my face with a towel before gently placing it over Ms Garcia's mutilated head.

_Goodbye, amiga._

He laughs. "You honestly think covering her up it going to change the fact that she's _dead_?" He pulls the gun from his pocket. "I killed her with _this_. Maybe I should do the same to you..." His teeth gleam.

My resolve tightens.

Craig shakes his head with a soft chuckle, dropping the weapon to the floor.

"I'd much rather kill you with my hands."

He lunges towards me.

-/-/-/-

"Stan," he coos. "Stan, why did you have to do this?"

I can barely see him, my eyes are so swollen. My arms are broken, my ribs suffering from the same fate. Every breath sends liquid fire through my body, every second the black seems so much better.

"Stan, didn't you know I loved you? I did. I loved you so much." He sounds bitter, his long fingers stroking my cheek as he hovers over me on his hands and knees.

A tear slips from my eye.

A choking sob rips though my chest cavity.

"Don't cry, Stan. Please, don't cry." He's laying on me and gripping my torso in his arms, the wetness of his own tears bleeding through my shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He slowly eases off, his hands moving closer to my throat. I try to shake my head, to tell him _no, please. Don't kill me, please._

Those fingers wrap around, his silent tears continuing to fall.

_Please, no. I have so much more I want to do. I want to be able to drink legally, please. I want to raise a family, I want to meet the girl of my dreams and raise a family. I want to play football with my son_.

_Please, no. Please._

They squeeze.

Squeeze.

_Please, no. I want to live. Please, please Craig. I'm sorry, I'll stay with you. Please please please._

His lips seal over mine.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

And it ends.

* * *

><p><em>AN:<em>

_So Long, Goodbye_ by _10 Years_.


	12. stop

_Run_

**stop**

I lost fifteen pounds in the space of three weeks.

I was scared of the idea of him hating me, scared I'd never see him again, and even more terrified that he would come back, and not because he'd forgiven me. My moods became unpredictable, my social life crumbled. I lay awake well into the night, too afraid to close my eyes, positive he was going to sneak in and kill me despite the policewoman's reassurances.

I wanted him back and I wanted to be free. I wanted him to hold me and love me and tell me how much he cared, but I also never ever wanted to see him again. I felt safe, and I felt terrified. I was sad and excited, lonely but never alone. In the hospital, I bonded with some of the people in my ward as I healed physically, but my mind kept replaying everything that had happened between us. The good, the bad, and the gray area in between.

I had been acting my life for three years; I knew how to make myself appear normal. And yet I couldn't find it in myself to even bother making them think I was okay. They knew, they'd seen the bruises and they'd heard my testimony.

Sunlight streams in from the curtained windows, black spots in my vision as I stare at the blank ceiling. (There are two brown stains, four red stains, and three separate places where paint is peeling off.)

"Hey, Mark." He turns his head to me from his bed. "I'm leaving."

"Okay," he answers. "I knew you would, even though you're being released tomorrow." I want to ask him about that, but I need to get out. Removing the many wires, I attach them to his body.

"Thanks, man."

His grey eyes flash and he flicks a piece of black hair from his face.

"It's my way of paying you back. Sorry you got stuck with someone who looked so much like-" I cough. "Right. Good luck."

I pull bits of clothing from the suitcase Butters brought me.

A note falls out of the jacket pocket as I slip it on.

_1860 Mallard Street,_ _Golden, CO.  
>See you there.<em>

A light smile tugs at the corners of my lips as my heart races._  
><em>

Quietly, I slip out of our room and into the hallway. My back is slouched as I follow a family. Eventually, they make it to the door and I am home free.

They slide open, the sun beats down.

World-smells invade my nostrils as I inhale.

_Freedom._

I'll change my name; they'll never find me. No longer am I 'that boy that got raped and was almost killed by his boyfriend'. I am no longer Stan Marsh, I am no longer a rape victim.

I am no longer his.

The world hasn't stopped spinning, but my life will never be the same.

For once, I could be truly happy.

My wounds are healed, my spirit is mending. I can do this, I can take this step into my future.

No, I won't take a step;

I'll run.

* * *

><p><em>AN:<em> Goodbye, guys. This has been an awesome run. (No pun intended.)

I'm going to put my effort into a WendyxStanxCraigxWendy, a Kenny/Craig and a new original piece. (Original? You're not KFC, Nixi! You're a South Park writer!)

Wow, this has been so much fun. I'm gonna miss you guys. :'D Be sure to check out Annuit Cœptis, as it is also 'horror' and rated M. (It's actually Cryle, contrary to the pairing listed.)

I might start a new _just_ Cran/Staig fic. Depends on if you guys liked this, or would rather something fluffier.

Just another fun fact: this chapter was written before anything else. It was the ending of a Buttman fic, which I discontinued for some reason.

_The Show Goes On_ by _Lupe Fiasco_.

-sniff- Bye, y'all!

~Nixi ;3;


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